


Quidditch Boys

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts with Draco spying on Harry in the showers after a Quidditch match, but from there it turns into so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What He's Missing

Harry closes his eyes, letting out a soft sigh as the hot water showers down over his head. He relaxes almost at once, the water soothing away his aches. There is nothing like a long, hot shower after a Quidditch game.

He grabs the soap, lathering it up until it is full of suds and begins washing away the sweat and dirt. He takes a long time washing, letting his own hands rub up and down his chest as they make their way down to his rapidly hardening cock.

Harry cant help it; Quidditch always does this to him. After every game he waits until the rest of the team is done so he can shower alone. A nice hot shower and a long slow wank.

He cant help himself, at least what he ways tells himself when he ends up hard as a rock picturing lean, hard muscles and pale blonde hair.

He loves the intensity of it a, and especially the added tension and aggression that’s there every time they play against Slytherin. It turns him on beyond belief.

Harry is rock hard now, images of Malfoy bent over his broom fill his mind. He is momentarily caught off guard however when he realizes he is even more turned on by the idea of Malfoy bending him over something.

“Fuck,” Harry whispers as his fingers wrap around his cock stroking up and down in a painfully slow rhythm.

Harry is so preoccupied in his fantasies he doesn’t hear the quiet shuffle of feet, doesn’t hear the sound of pants dropping to the floor, and with his eyes shut tight he misses the sight of pale fingers wrapping themselves around an even harder cock.

By the time he’s done, the room is empty. But as Harry reaches down to pick up his clothes he catches sight of a note laid on top of his trousers.

Harry picks it up, a blush spreading across his face as he reads it.

 

_Was it as good for you as it was for me?_

_-Malfoy_


	2. In Plain Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time it's Harry's chance to watch.

Harry has tried to stop thinking about it, really he has. The problem is that while he knows that logically he should stop thinking about it, he doesn’t actually want to.

Which, he supposes, is why he’s currently standing outside the Slytherin Quidditch locker rooms after today’s Gryffindor versus Slytherin match, hiding under his invisibility cloak.

His cock is half hard already, just thinking about Malfoy watching him. He’s pretty sure the normal reaction should be extreme mortification, but instead of being embarrassed the most Harry can muster is a bit of indignation and a whole lot of arousal.

Harry has almost lost his nerve when he sees the last of the Slytherin players exits; well the last one except Malfoy. Harry swallows loudly, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he quietly slips into the room,extra careful that his trainers don’t squeak on the polished tile floor.

For a second he thinks the room is empty because though the room is still thick with warm steam none of the showers are still on. He frowns, a bit disturbed by the sheer force of his own disappointment at not being able to watch Malfoy wank, when he hears the soft intake of breath around the corner near the back.

He shuffles along quietly, peering around the corner. The sight before him takes his breath away and Harry would curse his adolescent body for betraying him but the sight before him is so erotic he thinks he might never be able to forget what he’s looking at.

“Fuck, Potter.”

Harry nearly jumps, terrified Draco has found him out. His brows furrow in confusion for a few seconds before he hears Draco whisper “Harry.”

Harry’s head spins and he really can’t breathe, a lump caught in his throat, and his hand sneaking into his own trousers as he watches Draco.

Draco has obviously showered already, his damp hair falling into his eyes, his body hunched forward ever so slightly. He is leaning against the wall, his long pale fingers wrapped around his even longer cock.

Harry immediately takes up a quick, frantic pace as he jerks himself off, mesmerized by the sight in front of him. Harry thinks he could sit and watch Malfoy wank all day, but he’s obviously been at this awhile already which is obvious from the pink flush across his cheeks to the bit of pre come already leaking out, and Harry suddenly wants nothing more than to be able to bring himself off while watching Malfoy come.

The room is fairly quiet, except for the random intake of breath and the occasional moan. It takes all of Harry’s self control to be so quiet, and he wonders briefly if Malfoy is always so controlled. But then, Malfoy is coming and Harry takes his previous thought back because the sight before him is anything but controlled.

Dracos eyes are shut tight but his face is relaxed, his chest is heaving and Harry’s name is once again coming out of Draco’s mouth. Harry has never heard anyone say his name with such desperation and that’s enough to put Harry over the edge.

Harry stands very still after that, barely daring to breath as Draco dresses and gathers up his things.

Harry lets out a breath he didn’t realized he was holding as Draco starts to leave. But then he pauses, stopping right in front of Harry.

Harry forgets how to breathe as he tries to remind himself that Draco can’t see him, when a self satisfied smirk forms on Draco’s face.

“Next time try not to be such a chicken shit, Potter. It could be a lot more fun.”

And Harry is left standing there feeling, once again, completely caught off guard. And again he knows he should be embarrassed but try as he might he can’t manage any emotion except excitement.

Next time, he thinks.

_Next time._


	3. Touching

It was impossible. There was absolutely no way that Harry is going to get anything done. He sighs, slamming his book shut which earns him a raised eyebrow from Ron and a rather perturbed look from Hermione.

  
“Harry, if you don’t study you’re going to fail.” 

  
“I’m not going to fail, Hermione.”

  
“Yes, actually you are. I’ve seen your markings the last few weeks,” Harry begins to make a noise in protest but Hermione simply holds her hand up silencing him. “Listen, you’re distracted and your mind is someone else. You’ve gotten worse marks the last two weeks than you even did when you were preparing to fight a Dragon in fourth year and don’t even think of lying to me because we both know it’s true. Now I don’t know what has gotten you so preoccupied but you are going to open that book and study until I say we’re done. Understood?”

  
Harry chances a glance at Ron who is, not surprisingly, pretending to read and refusing to make eye contact with Harry. Traitor, he thinks, frowning and reopening his book.

  
The next hour is spent very uneventfully. Harry reads the same page at least twenty times and still cannot remember a word of it. Thankfully as long as he isn’t slamming his book or fidgeting too much Hermione doesnt seem to notice that he isn’t actually doing anything productive.

  
He is just considering leaving the library and facing another speech from Hermione when he notices a head of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. His fingers clench together under the table and he is horrified to realize that simply the sight of Draco Malfoy walking into the library has him half hard immediately. 

  
Though if he is honest with himself he doesn’t really mind getting hard at the mere sight of Malfoy; no, he’s far more frustrated by the other boys complete lack of response towards him. 

  
For the last two weeks Harry has done nothing but obsess over Malfoy. He’s watched him in the great hall calm and collected, he’s watched him in classes all composure and focus, he’s watched him on the Quidditch pitch all passion and determination, he’s watched him in the hallways with small smiles and soft laughter. And every moment watching has made Harry painfully aware of what he wants. 

  
The problem is, he isn’t sure what the other boy wants.  _Next time._  The words are etched into Harry’s brain permanently. He’s quite positive his hand is still chaffed and his wrists are sore from the sheer amount of wanking he’s done. But none of it has come even close to being enough. 

  
He drops his head into his hands, closing his eyes and trying very hard not to picture Malfoy naked. 

  
**~*~*~^~^**

  
The next morning at breakfast Harry is still doing a terrible job of not thinking about Malfoy naked. He’s also doing a terrible job of not staring at him, something at least half of the great hall has noticed. Not that Harry has noticed anyone noticing him because he’s too busy watching Draco’s fingers pull apart a muffin and slowly deposit pieces into his mouth as if it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten. He squirms uncomfortabley as he realizes he’s going to spend another morning hard as a rock. 

  
He’s halfway through a mental debate about whether he has time to wank before potions when an unfamiliar bird drops a note on top of his breakfast. His stomach drops as he recognizes the familiar, tidy scrawl. With shaking fingers he opens the letter and reads the solidity sentence in the middle of the page.

  
_Tired of just watching yet?_

  
His face burns, a heady mix of embarrassment and shame, and he drops the note, looking up and expecting to catch Malfoy smirking at him. Instead however, he’s still eating his muffin and looking thoroughly unruffled.

  
It’s entirely unfair. Harry feels as if he is the only the affected by this and he thinks it’s about time the roles are reversed.

  
Harry rises from his seat and stalks out of the great hall abruptly, so focused on his own thoughts he misses the grey eyes that follow him all the way out.

  
***~*~*~*~***

  
The next morning Harry sits down next to Hermione, reaching for the jug of pumpkin juice just as the flood of owls fill the air. He swallows down his nerves and uses every bit of self control he has not to watch Malfoy.

  
He makes it less than sixty seconds before glancing up at him, watching as Malfoy takes the note from the unfamiliar bird and unfolds it. His hands still for a second and Harry is pleased to realize he’s not the only one who can recognize handwriting. 

  
He watches as Malfoy’s eyes widen in surprise, just for a second, and the faintest blush appears on his cheeks. Harry continues to stare but Malfoy doesn’t look at him, just folds the note and slides it into his bag.

  
***~*~*~*~*~**

**  
** The rest of the week proceeds about the same. Each morning a new school owl drops off a note to Draco, each one a little more daring than the first.

_  
I want to do a lot more than watch._

_  
I touch myself at night when I think of you._

_  
I want to watch you touch yourself while you watch me._

_  
I want you to touch me._

_  
I want you to fuck me._

By the time Saturday comes around Harry is tired of walking through the halls in a perpetual state of arousal. He’d spent all week hyper vigilante of Malfoy’s presence everywhere, not sure if he was more terrified of the idea of. being shoved against the wall and molested without a moments notice or the idea of being ignored.

  
And ignore him Malfoy had. His behavior towards Harry hadn’t changed one bit. In fact Harry is pretty sure his own cheeks had burned more than Malfoy’s from his last note. And though Harry wants desperately to see the other boy just as flustered and turned on and needy as him, he is still pleased even if Draco won’t acknowledge him. Because Harry is still watching, and he sees Malfoy’s composure cracking.

  
He sees it in the way Draco accidently snaps his favorite quill in half during potions, or the way he forgets the right answer in transfiguration, and especially in the way he keeps spilling his tea when the Owls appear each morning.  
Draco is definitely not as unaffected as he’s trying to pretend to be. 

  
***~*~*~*~***

**  
** Unfortunately for Harry, it’s a Hogsmede weekend. Which means no Quidditch. And no Quidditch means no chance of a repeat performance of what happened after the last match. 

  
And despite the rest of the castles excitement, Harry just can’t convince himself to to go. So with a few muttered apologies and “maybe next times” he heads off alone towards the Quidditch pitch hoping to get in a bit of flying practice, something he’s hoping can take his mind off his otherwise confusing and distracting thoughts. 

  
Harry flies for a long time, looping in elegant circles and throwing himself into dangerous dives, loosing himself completely as he speeds through the air. In fact, he is so caught up in flying he doesn’t notice the pair of gray eyes that follow him the entire time, nor does he notice the solitary figure that enters the changing room just minutes before Harry descends to the ground.  
In fact he is already in the Quidditch locker room, broom set down on the bench and clothes half off before he realizes he is in fact not alone. Rather than startle though, he continues to undress, this time paying far more attention to the way he bends over to remove his shoes, and the way his hands run down his own chest as he undoes his buttons and discards his remaining clothing on the floor. 

  
Harry takes in a long,deep breath willing himself to be braver than he feels as he walks towards the showers and turns the nob to release a strong stream of hot water and steam. Harry steps underneath it, letting the hot water run down his body as he reaches down and wraps his hand around his cock stroking it up and down, slow and firm and curling his toes as he feels himself harden.  
Don’t look. Don’t look, he keeps thinking to himself. Because he knows if he looks he won’t be able to control himself and he wants desperately for Malfoy to be the one who loses control first. 

  
After a few minutes Harry is beginning to feel his resolve crack, when an idea strikes him and he opens his eyes please to see Draco poised to jump off the edge of the bench, gripping the edge so tightly his fingers are turning purple.

  
“Draco….oh, Draco,” Harry whispers, just loud enough for the other boy to hear as he reaches back with his right hand and starts fingering his arse hole, just running his finger around the puckered skin and shuddering at just how much he wishes it were someone else’s fingers there.

  
Harry doesn’t have to wait long though, just a few seconds more and he’s just about to press his finger inside when suddenly Draco slams him against the shower wall kissing him roughly.

  
“Fuck,” Draco says, soundly uncharacteristically desperate and it drives Harry crazy.

  
Harry kisses him back just as fiercely, tangling his fingers in Draco’s hair and whining when he realizes Draco is fully clothed. 

  
Draco surprisingly doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by being fully clothed In the shower. Instead he has all his attention focused on Harry’s mouth, kissing him as if it were imperative to his very survival.

  
“Not….fair. Too many fucking clothes,” Harry says, in between kisses as he manages to get Draco’s shirt off. 

  
“Didn’t think you’d ever get up the nerve, Potter,” and oh that does it because if Malfoy wants nerve Harry can show him nerve.

  
He reaches out with shaking fingers, undoing the buttons and dragging the other boys pants down over smooth hips and long legs and as he reaches down to push the pants to the other boys ankles he drops to his knees sucking his cock in his mouth and humming in satisfaction when Draco falls against the wall in surprise. 

  
Harry reaches out, steadying Malfoy’s legs, and this small sign of desperation settles Harry’s nerves as he finally realizes he isn’t the only one so affected.   
Draco leans back, resting against the wall as his fingers run through Harry’s wet hair, whimpering and moaning. Draco is letting go, letting go so completely Harry feels a bit desperate and wild with need and he increases his pace desperate to make Malfoy come. 

  
“Wait,” Malfoy rasps out and Harry pulls back in confusion. Harry feels momentarily worried until he notices the predatory look in Draco’s eyes. “I’m nothing if not obliging, and if I’m not mistaken you did ask for something."   
Harry is about to ask what when he remembers Friday’s note. I want you to fuck me. He rises to his feet, suddenly feeling as if there isn’t enough air to breath and Draco is there wrapping his body around Harry’s and dragging his hands down lower and lower as he his fingers explore places no one else has ever dared to touch. The thought makes Harry light headed and he closes his eyes and drops his head against Malfoy’s shoulder as he tries to relax. 

  
Draco is nothing if not thorough and as his fingers breach Harry it’s all he can not to literally cry with desperation because he doesn’t think he has ever wanted anyone or anything this badly before.

  
"Turn around,” he whispers, and Harry complies feel a sprinkling of kisses being planted down his spine before he feels Draco’s cock pressed against him.

  
“This is what you do to me, Potter. Fuck you have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to touch you, wanted to taste you, wanted to fuck,” Malfoy says, his voice low and thick as he holds his cock in how’s own hand rubbing it up and down Harry’s arse pressing in just barely then pulling out as he ruts against him. “I want to fuck you til you can’t walk, til you can’t breath, til you can’t even remember your own name.”

  
Harry whimpers, clawing at the tile wall and moving his hips back and both as Draco rubs his cock between his arse cheeks. And just as Harry is about to tell him that if he doesn’t do something soon he might explode Draco grabs ahold of Harry’s hips and slides into him so slowly Harry thinks he’ll feel the burn for days.

  
“Fuck…fuck. Just….fuck,” Harry moans pressing his arse back as hard as he can desperate to take the other boy in deeper.

  
“Eloquent as always, Potter." 

  
Harry is pleased to note the biting tone has been replaced with a fair bit of affection.

  
"Move. Please. Fuck me.”

  
And Draco doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls out, one hand on each side of Harry’s hips firmly holding him in place as he begins to thrust in and out, in and out over and over. Harry reaches down, wrapping is own hand around his cock and attempting to match Draco’s pace. 

  
The room is filled with sighs and moans, slapping skin and begging tones. Though neither boy pays much attention to the origin of the pleas as their bodies become one. It doesn’t take long before Draco slams into him especially hard, his arms wrapping around Harry’s chest from behind as he shudders into him. 

  
Harry is only a little surprised to find that he likes this feeling of being pinned and held tightly just as much as likes the feeling of Malfoy coming inside of him. He drops his hands to his sides, steadying his own breathing and taking a moment to focus on the feeling of Draco coming inside of him. 

  
They stay like that for a minute or two, neither boy daring to move or break the silence. It’s Draco who finally moves first as he realizes Harry hasn’t come yet. He reaches down and wraps his long, smooth fingers around Harry’s cock from behind. Harry sags against Draco, letting the other boy support his weight as Draco’s thumb drags across the tip of his cock smearing precome down the length of his shaft. It doesn’t take long, just a few firm strokes with Draco’s body against his back and Draco’s mouth nibbling on his ear before Harry is coming hard. They both slide to the floor in a heap, their bodies tangled together and shivering slightly against the cold tile floor.

  
“Next time,” Draco says, breaking the silence as he traces his finger up and down Harry’s hip “we definitely need a bed.”

  
Oh, Harry thinks,  _next time_.

  
**next time.**


	4. On The Pitch

“Blimey Harry, what’s the toast ever done to you?” Ron says with a raised eyebrow, playfully nudging him in the shoulder.

Harry has the decency to look embarrassed as he glances down at his plate and sees the remains of several pieces of toast that have been brutally ripped to shreds. Harry had been so distracted watching Malfoy across the Great Hall he hadn’t even realized what he’d been doing to his breakfast.

“Right, nothing. Just not hungry, mate.”

Ron thankfully doesn’t question him just digs back into his breakfast.

“You really should eat you know. You’re playing Slytherin today Harry.” Hermione says this as if there is any force in world that could make him forget about Quidditch; especially Quidditch against Malfoy.

“Pretty sure the death glares coming from the Slytherin table are enough to remind us,” Ron replies easily, spearing yet another sausage onto his fork. 

And indeed several members of Slytherin have been staring them down for the last half hour. Though Harry was quick to notice that unlike previous occasions, Malfoy did not join in. 

If truth be told, Harry finds it particularly off putting just how unaffected Malfoy manages to be. 

Harry is sure his grades are stil slipping slightly and he’d almost got a detention in potions last week because try as he might he couldn’t stop watching Malfoy; though even more unsettling is the fact that no matter how hard he tries he just can’t stop wanting him either.

“Right, I’m just gonna head outside. Get a bit of fresh air before the match. I’ll see you guys in a bit,” Harry says rather abruptly, exciting the great Hall in a bit of a hurry.

By the time he’s made it down to the pitch, the long walk and the cool morning breeze have helped settle his nerves. Unfortunately they did nothing to stifle his arousal. Although at this point he’s pretty sure nothing could stop him from getting aroused when he thinks of the past few weeks.

“Damn Malfoy,” Harry whispers, dropping his head against the broom shed with a dull thud. 

Harry looks down at the bulge in his pants and take a slow, steadying breath hoping to will his erection away but it’s no use. His mind is overflowing with thoughts of pale, flushed skin and swollen lips and before he can stop to think about where he is or whether someone might see him, he’s slipping his right hand into his pants and wrapping his fingers around his swiftly hardening cock. 

His mouth falls open, a soft whimper on his lips as his chest begins to rise and fall rapidly.

“It’s rude not share,” a voice whispers and Harry’s eyes snap open immediately with a rush of shame and embarrassment at being caught. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Draco murmurs, his hand reaching out to rub Harry through his trousers, and the arousal Harry can hear in the other boys voice is the only thing stopping him from wishing the ground might swallow him up whole. 

Because it isn’t like he’s really that embarrassed at being caught wanking, at least not by Malfoy. They’d done far more than the last few times they had been together. No, if he’s honest with himself the only thing that has him a bit shaken is the balance of power. Harry feels desperately out of control and aroused almost constantly now; just the sight of Draco at breakfast had him sneaking outside to wank. And while the other boy seems to want Harry too he hasn’t seemed nearly as desperate since their last encounter as Harry feels. 

Draco leans forward, closing the small distance between them and pressing Harry firmly back against the broom shed. The wood presses roughly into his back, but Draco’s body is just as hard as it presses him backwards so Harry can’t seem to care.

  
The first thing Harry notices is that Malfoy is rock hard, maybe even more so than Harry, and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. The second thing he notices is that up close Malfoy doesn’t look quite so perfect. His skin is sweaty and flushed, there are the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes, and his tie is so wrinkled it looks like he must have tied and untied it a hundred times.

Harry slams their lips together in a desperate kiss, spinning them both around so that Draco is shoved against the broom shed instead and quite suddenly he realizes that maybe he’s not the only one so deeply affected, perhaps The other boy just hides it better. 

The idea of Malfoy watching him back, wanting him, losing sleep over him, unable to function without him, does something to Harry’s stomach that simultaneously makes him feel like he’s flying and like he might throw up. He feels heady with power and arousal and he knows now is his chance; he doesn’t need to hold back, or let Malfoy have all the control anymore, because like a burst of clarity he finally gets that it’s not just about power. For the first time Harry realizes that while this thing they’re doing might have started as a bit of a game, neither one of them is playing around anymore.

Harry is nearly come undone as they continue to kiss like their lives depend on it, all hands and lips and it’s wet and messy and perfect he thinks if they keep this up any longer he could come just from this alone. Except he doesn’t want to come like this.  
“What are you doing?” Malfoy asks breathlessly as Harry pulls away from him, but Harry simply puts a finger to his lips and shushes him as he drags them down to lay on the cool grass, still damp with morning dew. 

Something subtle shifts as they disrobe right there in the bright sun behind the Quidditch shed, and as they look each other in the eyes, right out in the open, Harry knows he’s never felt so bare, yet he knows it has nothing to do with the fact that someone could be watching and everything to do with the boy standing right in front of him. They stay there like that for a few seconds, before the spell is broken and Harry nearly pounces on Draco, pressing him back into the ground as he straddles him. He starts to rut against him, his knees digging into the grass as he drags his hips up and down aligning their cocks and eliciting a moan from Malfoys mouth. 

“Wanna fuck you til you can’t remember anything except what It feels like to have my cock buried inside of you,” Harry says, shocked at the words as they leave his mouth.

Draco looks at him in shock, but he doesn’t say no. Instead the other boy is reaching out and fumbling in his discarded robe pockets before pulling out a small jar and shoving it into Harry’s hands. 

Harry’s hands shake as he unscrews the lid, dipping two fingers into the thick gel and scooping up a generous glop. 

“Scared, Potter?” Draco asks, not a hint of true malice in his words.

“You wish,” Harry replies, sealing his mouth against Draco’s as he reaches down and smears the lubricant around Hos entrance. He’s methodical about it, running his fingers in circles for several minutes before finally pressing his finger in. Draco’s eyes are watering by this time, his hands clenched in Harry’s hair to keep them from shaking.

By the time Harry adds a third finger, their bodies are sliding against each other easily both boys dripping with sweat. Harry pauses, pulling away and rolling Draco over until his stomach is pressing into the warm grass. 

Harry leans back down, spreading apart the smooth, quivering legs before him with his knees before pushing into him so slowly Harry nearly bites a hole through his bottom lip. When he’s fully sheathed inside of Malfoy he stretches himself out so that his entire body is covering Malfoy’s; his hands massaging up his back and then moving to place one hand on either side of his shoulders sliding then down his arms until strong, tanned fingers are linking with long pale ones.

“Mine,” Harry says with such an intensity it is long moments before either of them dare to move. 

“Fuck, Harry. Move. Please.”

It isn’t the please that gets him though, but rather the use of his full name. 

After another minute during which Harry isn't even sure he's still breathing, Draco begins to wiggle, pressing his arse back against Harry’s cock as he whimpers low and deep, squeezing Harry’s fingers tightly. The desperation in his movements breaks through Harry’s haze of hesitation and suddenly it’s as something has shattered because Harry moves against Draco as if he is his salvation; thrusting in and out with such force it leaves them breathless.

It doesn’t take long before they're both a mess, sweating and aching, grass in places it should never be and dirt smudged into knees and elbows.  Neither seems to mind though as Draco raises himself onto his knees and Harry places a hand on both of his hips holding him tightly.  The air full is of the sound of birds chirping and skin slapping.  Draco comes first, fisting himself as Harry slides in and out, arching into Harry as he does.  It doesn't take Harry long after that, just a few weak thrusts before Harry is burying his face in Draco's neck to keep from screaming.

"Fuck you're heavy," Draco grumbles when Harry drops down on top of him, crashing them both into the ground.

"Next time, we need a bed," Harry mumbles into Draco's neck, licking behind his ear and refusing to move.

"What are you a cat? Besides, I'm quite sure I suggested a bed last time its not my fault you never listen you prat."  Harry is about to protest but Draco brings their still joined hands up to his mouth and Harry can feel the smile against his knuckles as Draco kisses each one of his fingers.

"Yeah, well maybe next time," Harry laughs, his chest feeling lighter than it has in weeks, because this time Harry knows there will be a whole lot of next times to come.

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a little drabble (chapter 1) with Draco spying on Harry, but I loved the idea and wrote a ficlet as a sequel and am planning a third addition.


End file.
